


Fall Sky

by rayvanfox



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: (which should come as no surprise if you know me at all), Dom Q, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sub James Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q looked perfect, curled up on the windowsill, his knees tucked neatly beneath his chin, his mug of tea in hand and resting on the tops of his stocking feet. The sun was slanting into the room directly across his forearms and forehead as he tilted a soft smile towards James.<br/>“Jumper weather,” he said fondly. He himself was in only a white T-shirt and black jeans, but he reached out with curling fingers to grab hold of James’ clothing — the specific item that Q had bought him last winter, in fact, a dusky blue wool jumper. “I told you it would bring out your eyes.”<br/>“That’s just the light. Everything glows today, especially you, darling.” It was true, what James said. The weather had shifted just yesterday, when the wind had picked up a chill and scrubbed the sky clear. The sun seemed to have taken off its shades and lost the yellowness of summer overnight as well. Everything had sharpened like a finely ground lens — high definition, Q would have said — and it was the perfect time of year for starting anew. If only James could manage to not cock it up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverwhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwhere/gifts).



> This one got away from me.  
> It started out as a tribute to fall, and then it ended up as a love letter to London in September (which is when i first was introduced to the city)  
> and yeah, 00Q, HEA.  
> idek.
> 
> But Happy Birthday Neverwhere, whose birthday was last Saturday! This one's (retroactively) for you!

Q looked perfect, curled up on the windowsill, his knees tucked neatly beneath his chin, his mug of tea in hand and resting on the tops of his stocking feet. The sun was slanting into the room directly across his forearms and forehead as he tilted a soft smile towards James.

“Jumper weather,” he said fondly. He himself was in only a white T-shirt and black jeans, but he reached out with curling fingers to grab hold of James’ clothing — the specific item that Q had bought him last winter, in fact, a dusky blue wool jumper. “I told you it would bring out your eyes.”

“That’s just the light. Everything glows today, especially you, darling.” It was true, what James said. The weather had shifted just yesterday, when the wind had picked up a chill and scrubbed the sky clear. The sun seemed to have taken off its shades and lost the yellowness of summer overnight as well. Everything had sharpened like a finely ground lens — high definition, Q would have said — and it was the perfect time of year for starting anew. If only James could manage to not cock it up.

“Thanks, love.” Q inclined his face and tugged James close for a brief, chaste kiss. “You look too good for puttering around the flat with me today. Do you have plans?”

“Just to please you, sartorially and otherwise,” James said with a sly little grin, running his palm over the back of Q’s hand, which was still clutching his jumper. “Besides, It’s Monday. Can’t we start celebrating?”

“My birthday’s not until Saturday, you nob.” Q was horrible at chastising James when they weren’t at work. His voice was too indulgent and amused. “But far be it from me to stop you.”

“Brilliant.” That was exactly what James had wanted — permission to have control of their plans for the day. “Let me take care of you today. Get your jacket — and possibly warmer clothes. We’re going for a walk.”

“Where to?” Q let James pull him out of the window and onto his feet. 

“Nowhere. Just walking. No mission objectives, no timetable.”

The corners of Q’s eyes crinkled sweetly. “Sounds lovely, actually. You won’t be bored?”

“Not with you,” James said honestly. They didn’t spend enough time together as it was. The entire summer had gone by in what felt like three weeks, what with the missions in Syria and virtually every other Mediterranean country keeping them run ragged. 

The decision to share a flat had come out of desperation to see each other in the random spare time of everyday life — over coffee and tea in the morning, on the sofa late at night with their laptops, in a bed that neither of them had to leave for any reason save going to work. But today was all theirs to do as they pleased. James had worked hard to get it that way, and he wanted to make the most of it. Especially because the odds they’d be free over the weekend were getting slimmer by the day. 

Q returned from the bedroom tugging on a thin scarf over his light corduroy jacket. The soft earthtones made him look the way dry leaves smelled underfoot, or even better, when they were licked by a flame. James itched to get his hot hands under those layers and taste the scruff on Q’s jaw, but he savoured the smoulder in his belly at the possibility that he’d be allowed that specific pleasure later on. It would be better after Q’s hair had been windswept and his skin kissed by the last of the sun before the rain came. 

“Are you sure we’re not meant to spend our free time unpacking and making the place liveable?” Q asked with a raised eyebrow. It was true they’d been living in the midst of boxes for close to a week, but James had made other plans. 

“That will take care of itself. Come on, before I lose patience and carry you out the door.”

“I thought the man was supposed to carry his partner over the threshold _into_ the house, not out.”

“Wives’ tale. Get a move on,” James growled with a playful little slap to Q’s backside. 

He yelped for the attention, then put on his stern voice to say, “None of that!” as he headed out the door in front of James, his perky arse very noticeable under the short jacket. 

 

—

 

“Are you sure you don’t have an objective, my love?” Q had his arm linked in James’ and was looking at him sidelong as they walked through Kensington Gardens towards Hyde Park. 

“Now why would you say that?” James said with one eyebrow cocked. 

“No reason. You just seem focused on a certain direction. No matter how we wander, we end up heading Northeast.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought you might want to do some window shopping. It’s not a far walk to Oxford Street.” James spoke nonchalantly, but there was a spark of amusement in his eye. 

“James Bond, are you using my birthday celebration as an excuse to buy clothes?” Q didn’t actually sound offended, even if he was trying to school his face into some sort of reprimand.

“Not for myself, obviously.”

“You already bought me three suits in the spring, what could I possibly need?”

“Some jumpers that aren’t hideous.” James laughingly flinched as Q struck his arm with a half-formed fist. 

“Arse.” After just a moment of pretending to be offended, he relented. “Turnabout’s fair play, I suppose. You’re allowed to choose one jumper without my veto, but any more than that, and I demand a say.”

“Fair,” James said with satisfaction. There was only one jumper that he knew for a fact would look stellar on Q’s spare frame, and already James had fantasised about taking it off of him very slowly and with much attention and care. Any others were less vital, but would boost Q’s wardrobe just that extra level to give him the gravity of a true MI6 executive who was over thirty — even if he still ended up looking like a kitten in specs most of the time. 

When James dragged Q into John Lewis and made a beeline for the item he had in mind, Q accused, “You said you didn’t have a mission for today!”

“I don’t; not really. Just a few vague ideas.” James held the jumper up to Q’s front and clucked his tongue. “I was right, it brings out the green in your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t green, Bond, they’re grey.”

“Yes darling, but sometimes they pick up color from the environment — the lighter shades of blue, some brownish hues, if you wear grey they are strikingly clear — but in the right light and with the right surroundings, they can have these greenish flecks in them, and...” James’ gaze shifted from the wool in his hands to Q’s eyes and got lost in them. “Lovely.”

Q dropped his own gaze to the floor, eyelids flicking down to shutter his eyes from James’ view. His cheekbones and ears were pink and he huffed as if irritated, though his voice was soft. It struck James that he might be embarrassed, not upset. “Don’t. I’m not your doll. And I’ve never been lovely in my life.”

“That last statement is utter falsehood, but I won’t dress you if you don’t want me to. It’s your day, after all.” James dropped a quick kiss on Q’s forehead, then pulled away smoothly to start looking at ties for himself. 

After a couple moments, a light tug on his sleeve had him turning into Q’s quiet embrace. “I don’t really _mind,_ I just don’t want to be remade in your image.”

“I’d never, you must know that.”

“Besides, you’re supposed to be _my_ arm candy, not the other way around.”

“Of course, Q. But that doesn’t mean you can’t dress your age. You know I won’t steer you wrong.”

“No, probably not. But if this becomes a habit, I’m breaking up with you.” Q spoke teasingly, but the words hit James hard and wrongfooted him.

“Don’t say that, please. I’ve only done this _twice,_ and we’ve been together almost a year. Hell, we just moved in together, don’t tell me you’re rethinking...” James had never mentioned that he’d only ever once lived with a love interest before — out of necessity — and the relationship had ended after only a few months. Today of all days, he was afraid he’d jinx something. 

“No, I know. I’m sorry. This isn’t cold feet, I swear it. I’m just...” Q turned his head to drag his lips and teeth along James’ jawline. “Not used to things going well.”

James huffed a mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it.” He pulled back enough to look into Q’s eyes and combed his fingers through Q’s hair. “Everything’s fine, darling. Let’s not sabotage it preemptively, shall we?”

“All right. Yes. Buy me some jumpers. And I’ll pick you out a tie. Then a late lunch — I’m starving.”

 

—

 

Lunch was sushi near The Roxy, and Q stuffed himself with nigiri, humming in pleasure with his mouth full of fish and rice, while James amused himself with multiple types of maki rolls. They had a wasabi eating competition, then fed each other pickled ginger with chopsticks while their sinuses burned. 

After James paid the bill and they left, Q pressed him up against a secluded wall and snogged him in thanks. Sushi always made Q playful, but James hadn’t expected something so forward. 

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” he murmured while nibbling on Q’s ear. 

“Oh hell, James. If you keep that up, I’ll make you find a us a room, and that will ruin your plans for the rest of the day.”

James paused for just a heartbeat before kissing lightly down Q’s neck. “There are no plans to be ruined, so if you want that, I’m game.”

Q huffed, amused. “Do you really think I don’t know you well enough by now? I’ve spent the past year and a half anticipating your every move. I know when you have your sights on something.”  
James reminded himself to breathe. “All right, if you’re so smart, do you know what it is, then? What I want?”

“No, but I mean to find out,” Q said, his eyes narrowing as he tried and failed to hide a smirk. 

Managing not to sigh in relief, James said in a low, gravelly voice, “I’ll tell you. I want you to take me to bed, let me undress you slowly, and suck you on my knees until you’re dripping and quivering with want. Then I want to sink down into your lap and ride you until you come so hard you forget your own name.”

“Oh God, James. Yes.” Q dropped the bags he was holding and clutched at James’ jumper is if he'd rip it off then and there. But instead of taking the bait that James — like the coward he was — had offered, Q continued. “Later. In our own bed. I want to look forward to that for the rest of the afternoon. I want to watch the anticipation growing in your eyes for as long as I can stand it before I drag you into a taxi and take you back home to fulfill your desire.”

“Yes, please, darling,” James said sincerely, as he picked up the bags and steered them towards Tottenham Court Road. “Care to while away the time until then in a bookshop or two? I know you have some favorites right around here.”

“Hmm,” Q said skeptically as he laced his fingers with James’. “This mission is very well mapped out. Let me guess, sunset on a bridge over the Thames?”

James winced, but didn’t try to hide it. “Something like that.”

Q chuckled, seeming oddly content with such an idea. Some of the tight bands in James’ stomach loosened at that. After a moment Q stopped walking and turned around. “Hang on. If you’re serious about bookshops, we’ve already passed Waterstones. And you know that comic shop is down near the end of Old Compton Street...”

As they started to retrace their steps, James leaned over to murmur in Q’s ear, “You know what else is right there, don’t you?” Q hummed in the shape of a question mark. James’ lips parted in a smile. “That one bookshop with the extras in the basement.” He was of course referring to a certain Soho shop which was only half books and the rest, sex toys.

Q glanced a warning at him. “Now now, don’t get greedy. I’ll happily use anything we have at home on you later, if you’re asking...”

James attempted to ignore the heat building low in his gut at Q’s tone of voice — like steel covered in velvet. “I just thought it might be nice to find something new for your birthday.”

“Possibly. If you behave yourself.”

James closed his eyes and swallowed, filled with gratitude and hot desire. He barely dared to breath the words, “Yes, sir.”

The two simple syllables melted over Q, and his movements morphed subtly from restrained to fluid, that familiar electricity arcing between them for the moments Q’s gaze travelled over James’ body. “Good,” he said, the word ‘boy’ implied but unspoken in public. “First the comic shop.”

 

—

 

The subtle dynamic and low-key flirting lasted through the rest of their shopping, and Q was slyly magnanimous when he let James purchase a couple items at the Soho ‘bookshop’ for them to enjoy later. The electric connection between them was a quiet hum in the background, but never far from James’ consciousness. Just as he liked it. They could do this for days — weeks, sometimes over the course of missions — and it helped James keep his equilibrium in busy public spaces. 

As it got later in the day and they moved around the theatre district, being in the midst of crowds with an MI6 executive held the risk of putting James on edge. With Q’s gentle touches and quiet commands, James could concentrate on their connection more than imagined threats, and there wouldn’t be any incidents. If James was honest with himself, their ability to stay grounded together was one of the biggest reasons why he and Q had lasted so long. 

The light started to wane as they meandered through Leicester Square down to Trafalgar Square, and Q again joked about sunset on a bridge. However, when James started walking down the Strand towards Waterloo bridge, Q stopped him.

“You aren’t serious, James.”

“If I were that much of a cliche, we’d be headed to the London Eye, and I’d profess my undying love at the very top.” He gave Q a sharp smile, and Q quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. 

“Of course. How silly of me,” he countered in a suspicious tone. “So what’s in Southwark that’s so important?”

“Tickets to the theatre, of course.”

“The _National_ Theatre? Are you joking?”

“Why would I be? They’ve got that production about Turing, _Breaking the Code,_ playing at the Lyttleton. Don’t you want to see it?”

“I don’t know,” Q said after a long, silent moment. “If it’s not Jacobi, is it worth watching?”

“Not sure, though I suppose Andrew Scott will do a passable job.”

“ _Passable?_ That man is nothing less than _transporting._ Please stop speaking now, James. You’re ignorance is painful.”

James smirked as he linked arms with Q, easily hefting their bags in his off hand, and walked him across the bridge. The sky was behaving beautifully, still blue with a smattering of pink clouds, and as the sun approached the Palace of Westminster, the water of the Thames was flecked with gold. James took a deep breath, his chest opening up with the cool air, and sighed, remarkably content. He hadn’t had a day like this in his own city in ages, and spending it with Q had been pure delight. Dear God, he was a lucky man. And possibly a truly happy man, if all went well.

 

—

 

His timing had been almost perfect, and they found their seats within ten minutes of the curtain. The play was, of course, stellar, but James kept turning from the stage to watch Q’s face. Q’s normally impassive features had free rein in the dark of the theatre to reflect his thoughts and feelings, which the superb acting touched in ways James had only rarely seen. To give his lover — his partner — an opportunity to access this part of himself was the best thing James had accomplished all day. Possibly all year.

At the interval Q was oddly quiet, and James’ stomach was in knots as he suggested they step outside to eat their ice creams. He wasn’t sure he’d worked this out as well as he should have, but the light was almost gone and the subtle rainbow on the horizon would have to do as a backdrop. 

Q was preoccupied, frowning into the distance, so James quietly asked him, “All right?”

“Yes,” Q said, though his distracted tone of voice didn’t inspire confidence. “I was just thinking about the intolerance in Turing’s time, and how, after everything he’d done — making it possible to _win the war_ — he was driven to suicide by society’s benighted attitudes to something as personal and private as who you love. Can you imagine?”

“I can’t. I try not to,” James said as he opened both their cups of ice cream.

“He was so very needed at that time, setting up so much of what was to come in computing advancements, cryptology, even artificial intelligence. And yet I can’t get over what it would be like had he lived now, when he could put his sexuality to practice freely, and not feel hated for who he was.”

James was listening — he _was_ — but he was also busy with the ice creams, placing everything just so, the spoon of Q’s off to the side so as not to distract from the main event. “Let’s just be glad that _we_ live now, and not then, my darling.” 

Q shrugged in silence, and James handed him the prepared ice cream before focusing on his own. For a moment, it was touch and go whether James had made a grave error in timing after such a sad conversation, but he stuck to his guns and tried not to choke on his spoon with worry.

Soon, a small sound of surprise erupted from Q, then, “What the—” And a nerve wracking pause. Finally, “James?”

He’d lost all composure by now, and couldn’t look Q in the eye. “Please, darling? We can set it up however you like, but I just want to know we’re... safe.”

“Safe?” Q’s confusion was softened by the hand that came to rest on James’ shoulder, steadying them both.

“Secure. If I die or end up in hospital or—”

“Stop, please. Let’s not ruin the moment thinking about tragedy.” Q turned James towards him and added, “Come on, my love. Show me you know how it’s done.”

James sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to Q’s stomach. “Must I, sir?”

“Yes, love. Nice and proper.” Q’s fingers threaded through James’ short hair, getting a scant handful in their grip. 

The tension on his scalp helped. So did a deep breath. “Marry me, my darling Ciaran?”

“Happily, James.” The pleasure in Q’s voice caused a hot flush of joy to spread through James’ whole body. Q lifted James’ chin and pressed cold metal to his lips. “Lick it clean, first.”

James opened up to accept the engagement ring into his mouth and sucked the sweet ice cream off, then kissed Q’s hand in about five places before sliding the ring onto his finger.

“There. Isn’t that beautiful?” Q said softly, his eyes alight as he slid his hand over James’ cheek and jaw, then down his neck. “Stand up and kiss me, love.”

“With pleasure, Q.” 

 

— 

 

They didn’t go back inside for the second act because, as Q said, it wasn’t the time for tragedy. Instead they headed home with all of their treasures, neither of them able to keep their eyes off the most important one, on Q’s left hand. Though, upon thinking about it, James had to admit that the true treasure was the understanding between the two of them, and the life that they would share together. 

That, and the sometimes miraculous treasure of friendship. Moneypenny and Tanner had agreed to spend their evening unpacking and tidying James and Q’s flat so they could come home to a space that felt like exactly that — home. Eve and Bill stayed long enough for a champagne celebration of the engagement, then left James and Q alone to make a simple dinner and head to bed. 

There, they made use of multiple toys, both new and old, but the thing that gave James the most pleasure was being able to feel the ring on Q’s finger as it rubbed against the inside of him. James moaned at the sensation and Q swore in excitement, and soon the two of them came together, panting each other’s names and promising forever.

If James could say anything about how well the day went, it would be: _Mission accomplished._

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration pic for the opening moment.  
> http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/01128/arts-graphics-2008_1128915a.jpg


End file.
